


Making Friends

by Lucifers_Trash_Stash



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 06:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16867843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifers_Trash_Stash/pseuds/Lucifers_Trash_Stash
Summary: Charlotte, one of Negan's wives, has a hard time making friends. Negan introduces her to some of his.





	Making Friends

**Author's Note:**

> An old fic of mine that is super indulgent and based entirely on some of my emotions I felt/still feel when I wrote it. I hope you enjoy <3

Nervously, I shifted my weight between my two legs as I stood here. My fingers twirled around the curled ringlets of my hair, brushing the hair against my cheek in small circles so the softness could distract me from the mix of emotions in my brain. Scared, frustrated, anxious, and everything in between is what I felt when I stared out at an occupied picnic table in the courtyard of Sanctuary.

Social interactions had never been my forte, not even before the walkers came around. I had friends, of course, but besides my high school friends I could barely interact well enough to make a lasting impression on anyone for them to want to be friends with me. “Oh, you’ll make friends in college,” they all said, but all I’d made was a bunch of acquaintances and was probably known as that girl who sat near people and laughed at jokes that weren’t even directed at her. I was alone for quite a while before I was taken in by Negan and his Saviors, and the cycle of not knowing how to make friends started all over again.

And Negan, my dearest husband, noticed from a mile away how inept I was at the whole socialization thing. Hell, the only reason I’m together with him is because he was persistent in getting to know me and I eventually let him. He invited me tonight to hang out with him, Simon, Dwight, and Arat while they drank and kicked back in the courtyard. He told me this would “help get me out of my fucking shell.” I didn’t need to get out of my shell, thank you very much. I had Negan, I had my books, and I had the cafeteria for when I got hungry. I was all set.

I nearly shrieked and jumped out of my skin when a hand slapped down on my shoulder, pulling me closer to a familiar leather jacket clad chest. With one hand pressed to my heart, I slapped my other hand on Negan’s chest while he tilted his head back and laughed. “Don’t. Do. That!” I panted, trying to catch my breath.

“I can’t help it sweetheart, you’re just so damn skittish. It’s fucking cute,” he said, pressing my body closer to his.

“It’s not fucking cute, it’s a fucking heart attack waiting to happen!” I said, pouting while I pried myself from his grip. “Do I have to do this?”

“I want you to, doll. I hate seeing you all cooped up in the parlor with only the wives to talk to. Though you don’t talk to them as much as you fucking listen to them,” he said.

“They want someone to listen to them. They don’t care what I think,” I said, my fingers twirling around my hair again.

Negan took my hand and moved it back to my side, gripping it in mine when he said, “I care what you think. And I’m fairly fucking certain that they’ll care what you think.” He gestured his head over to the table where the three were waiting. “I think they’ll give you a better fucking conversation than ‘Did you see what Jessie from commissary was wearing? Oh em gee those boots didn’t even match her scarf!’”

I snorted and looked down at my shoes, trying to hide the blush that was creeping up my cheeks. “Alright, alright, fine. Just don’t say “oh em gee” ever again.”

“Why, am I fucking embarrassing you?” he asked, grinning at me. “Sweetheart, you don’t even know what embarrassment is. I mean, I could call myself “Daddy” and tell them all about the night before…”

“Shut the fuck up! Don’t you dare!” I hissed at him as he led me closer to the table, my heartbeat pounding in my chest with every step.

After what felt like ages, we arrived at the table. All three of the saviors were looking up at us, and all I wanted to do was hide myself behind Negan like a fucking child. The only thing that kept me there was his arm around my waist, giving my hip a reassuring squeeze with his hand.

“Well good fucking evening,” Negan said, smiling at his top men (and woman). “I’m sure you all know my lovely wife, Charlotte. She’s going to be fucking joining us tonight.”

“Hey,” I managed to squeak out as I gave a half-hearted wave. Simon gave me a grin, Dwight held his hand up in greeting, and Arat muttered a “hi” under her breath. Tough crowd.

Negan gestured for me to sit down, and I slipped into the empty spot on the bench next to Arat. I was about to scoot over to make room for Negan when Simon cleared his throat and gestured towards his leader.

“Now, not to say your memory’s going or anything, but I think you forgot the most important part of this whole meeting,” Simon said. “The beer.”

“Fuck, that’s right!” Negan exclaimed, putting a hand on his hip as he shook his head. “I completely forgot that I was the one who was fucking treating everyone tonight. I’ll be back in a few minutes, though I’m sure you can all talk amongst yourselves about whatever the fuck while I’m gone, right?”

My blood stops cold as I realize what Negan’s doing. He leans down to my ear and whispers so that only I can hear, “If I don’t hear a bit of lively conversation by the time I get back, you’re not getting any hanky-panky tonight.”

And with that, the bastard walked away. That asshole! I guess he’s a believer in the “sink or swim” method of teaching. Fuck him. I can’t believe this shit. And what was he doing withholding sex from me, shouldn’t it be the other way around after all the shit he’s put me through tonight?!

All four of us sat in awkward silence. Arat was staring out at the walkers by the fence while Dwight took a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and lit up. The only one who seemed like he would be willing to talk was Simon, but at the moment he was asking Dwight for a drag of the cigarette.

If there was one thing I hated more than coming up with conversation starters, it was awkward silences. Apparently no one was interested in talking until they had a beer in them. This was dangerous territory. My hands fiddled with the hole in my jeans as I kept my eyes down so I could avoid any stray eye contact. But it didn’t help because it was still too damn quiet.

My curiosity getting the better of me, I raised my head so I could see what my surroundings looked like. Simon was looking straight at me, one hand cupping his chin as he leaned forward slightly in his seat. My fingers gripped my knees tightly. What the fuck did he want!? Was he going to say something? Was he just looking at me just because I was new? Or because he knew I was weak as hell and wanted to stare me down for shits and giggles?

If he was about to say something to me, I didn’t give him the chance. It was too nerve-wracking, so I had to spit out the first thing on my mind just to bring down the intensity of this supposedly causal get together.

“I like your mustache!” I blurted out, catching Simon off guard as his eyebrows raised in shock. Arat turned to look in my direction, and Dwight took another drag as he stared at me through his furrowed brow. “It, uh, fits your face… or whatever,” I sputtered, trying to make myself sound less like an idiot and failing.

I contemplated running back to Sanctuary and hiding in the parlor right now. I don’t get far on that thought, because Simon’s mouth began to crack into a smile as he chuckled. “Well thank you Charlotte, it’s nice to get complemented for once around here,” he said before turning to Arat. “Why the fuck don’t you complement me on my mustache, huh?”

Arat’s lips curled into a wicked smirk. “I’m sorry Simon, I didn’t know I was hurting your feelings. I appreciate the work you put into your mustache, you’re really dedicated to the whole Ron Jeremy pornstache look,” she said.

Dwight leaned back in his seat and cackled, slamming his palm into the table and shaking his head. I laughed too, watching as Simon’s smile turned into a pout. Simon turned to me and said, “Please tell me you didn’t get that reference. You’re too young and innocent to know who Ron Jeremy is.”

“Kinda hard not to know when all the boys in my sixth grade class ‘discovered’ him,” I chuckled, ignoring the “innocent” comment. That was a whole other can of worms that I wasn’t willing to open.

Simon elbowed the still laughing Dwight in the ribs. “It wasn’t that fucking funny. And like you have room to talk, what the fuck kind of scraggly shit are you growing on your face?” he asked, plucking the cigarette out of Dwight’s hand to take another drag.

“Oh, fuck off,” Dwight giggled, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Goatees will always look better than your stupid fucking mustache.”

Arat nudges my arm with her elbow and leans towards me. “He sounds like a supervillain or something right now. How much you want to bet he’ll twirl his mustache and laugh maniacally?”

Before Dwight could retort back, a small case of beer was placed in the middle of the table. I looked up and was met with Negan’s grinning face as he sat on the other side of me.

“Finally, I was about to rip this one’s head off,” Simon chuckled, nodding in Dwight’s direction as he took a beer for himself. “Gin would really hit the spot though.”

“If you want that shit, you fucking find it yourself,” Negan said, rolling his eyes as he slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me against him. “So, what’d I miss?”

* * *

After the surprisingly nice evening with Negan’s crew, I was actually feeling rather good. I hadn’t drunk as much as anyone else at the table, partially because beer is too bitter to me, but I still felt like I was included. It was nice.

“Well?” Negan asked, closing his bedroom door behind him. “Did you make some new fucking friends?”

“It was only one night,” I said, stepping out of my boots and pulling the jeans off of my legs. “I think I need to spend more time with someone to actually make friends.”

Negan smirked, standing beside me as I slipped on the sweatpants that he kept for when I stayed in his room. “Sweetheart, please. Why don’t we forget the pants and make some friction, if you know what I mean?” he asked, fingers trailing up my sides.

“I’m still mad at you,” I said, turning around and crossing my arms.

“Oh come on, you fucking managed just fine!” Negan whined. “You were a regular social butterfly out there.”

I frowned, looking up at him. “Oh alright. I suppose you can cuddle me. But only cuddling.”

Negan cocked his eyebrow. “How about sex in the morning?”

I sighed. “Fine.”

Negan smiled and bent down to press his lips on mine, the taste of beer still lingering there. He whispered against my lips, “I’ll make sure to get you up bright and early. Wouldn’t want to miss valuable fucking time to fuck, now would we?”

I rolled my eyes and crawled into bed, setting my glasses on the bedside table. I sighed as soon as my head hit the pillow. Negan wasn’t far behind, as he was usually quicker to strip than I was anyways. I moaned softly as Negan’s arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me against his chest. My hand brushed against his, and he entwined his fingers in mine.

His head was buried in my mess of hair as he found my neck and pressed a tender kiss to it. “I’m so fucking proud of you, you know that?” he asked.

I felt myself starting to blush. Snuggling closer to his body, I let out a contented sigh. “I do now,” I said, smiling and relaxing in his arms as I finally began to fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in keeping up with me, follow me on tumblr @lucifers-trash-stash :D


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